


Boy Hero

by all_not_well



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Mpreg, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-01
Updated: 2011-11-01
Packaged: 2017-11-14 01:22:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/509813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/all_not_well/pseuds/all_not_well
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco's night out trick-or-treating with his son abruptly turns into something much more complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Boy Hero

**Author's Note:**

> Written for leo_draconis in the hp_owlpost Halloween round on Livejournal.

"Daddy." Scorpius frowned as he tugged at the ragged sleeve of Draco's oldest, ugliest jumper. "We missed a house." He pointed with an imperious finger.

Draco grimaced at the sight of the little white cottage, so terribly plebeian, with its postage-stamp garden neatly contained behind a low dry-stone wall. Candles burned bright at every diamond-paned window, and a lamp by the door cast a warm welcoming circle of light over the stoop. A line of carved pumpkins stood sentry along the flagstone path, blank eyes glowing over gap-toothed grins.

" _Daddy._ " Scorpius gave Draco's sleeve another sharp tug.

Draco shook his head and swallowed hard before turning away.

"Not that one, love." He took Scorpius's hand in his and tried to lead him on to the next house.

"Why not, Daddy?" Scorpius dug in his heels and pulled towards the cottage. "It's a nice house. I expect they have sweets for me there."

Draco sighed. He let himself be tugged as far as the gate, which stood open in clear invitation.

Maybe it wouldn't be too terrible. If he hung back and kept his mouth shut, and just let Scorpius work his wiles…

That was how they'd managed thus far, at any rate, and they'd done well enough. There were so many small children running hither and yon on the streets of Hogsmeade that Scorpius blended right in - just another boy dressed as his hero, fake wand in hand and transfigured glasses slipping down his sharp little nose. And their costumes coincidentally disguised the silver-gilt of their Malfoy hair, which only helped to further their anonymity. There'd been no stares, no pointing fingers, no whispering behind hands. And no doors slammed in their faces, thank Merlin.

But costumes or no costumes, they would never be able to fool the owner of the little white cottage.

"We can't stop here, Scorpius," Draco said, halting their progress before the gate. "It's not a nice house at all - not for us, at any rate."

"But how do you _know_ it's not a nice house? We haven't tried yet."

"Because I know the man who lives here, and I know he doesn't like me."

Scorpius narrowed his eyes and stared; Draco could practically hear his little clockwork mind whirring through his options. The temptation of sweets would no doubt trump all else in his mind.

"All the other houses have been nice," Scorpius said.

"We're not stopping here." Draco attempted to inject a firm parental timbre into his voice. "We won't be welcome."

Scorpius's lower lip pushed out in a very clear pout.

"He truly doesn't like me," Draco repeated, and was appalled to hear the hint of petulance in his voice. Strange, that one rejection in his childhood could still affect him after so many years.

"Well, he'll like _me_ ," Scorpius stated, with the supreme confidence of the very young and over-protected. He twisted, deftly pulling his hand free of Draco's grasp, and ran up the path to the cottage.

"Scorpius!" Draco hissed, but Scorpius had already stepped up onto his tip-toes to reach the bell pull. A pleasant-sounding chime rang out within the house, and a curtain twitched at the front window.

Draco sighed and strode up the path in Scorpius's wake. This could only lead to disaster, of the sort he'd tried so hard to postpone. He gritted his teeth and braced himself for the inevitable confrontation.

"Trick or treat!" Scorpius cried happily as the door swung inward.

"Hello," came the familiar, loathed voice, so much softer than Draco remembered from his school days. "If it isn't Harry Potter, and…dear Merlin, Ron Weasley? Really, Malfoy?"

Draco scowled and ran a hand through the ginger mop he currently sported. "Shut it, Scarhead," he muttered. His face burned hot, no doubt flushing red enough to match his horrible hair. "My son insisted." He laid a protective hand on Scorpius's shoulder.

The Git-Who-Lived had the audacity to laugh, green eyes sparkling behind trademark round spectacles. He opened his mouth to speak - but was interrupted by the rattle of paper and the crackle of cellophane.

"You're meant to give me my sweets now," Scorpius prompted helpfully. He gave his paper bag another brisk shake and held it up to receive his bounty.

"Oh, of course." Potter gave Scorpius a pleasant-enough smile, and he spoke without a trace of mockery, at least as far as Draco could tell. "My apologies - terribly rude of me to keep the Chosen One waiting. I've Muggle sweets and wizarding. Do you have a preference?"

Draco took the opportunity, whilst Scorpius oohed and ahhed over the unfamiliar Muggle sweets, to study Potter more closely. He hadn't seen the man in years - not since their N.E.W.T.s. Of course there had been regular updates on Potter's life in the _Daily Prophet_ , including his recent and much-publicized breakup with Puddlemere Keeper Oliver Wood. But Draco knew better than to believe anything he read in that gossip rag.

Potter looked surprisingly good, post-heartache - completely at odds with the weakness in his voice. He appeared practically perfect, a far cry from the scruffy boy Draco remembered. The wild mop of hair no longer resembled an owl's nest, but rather tame and lightly tousled waves that looked soft enough for Draco to run his fingers through. Potter's face had an irritating glow of health about it, his tan as golden as if he'd just come home from several months' holiday on some exotic tropical beach. And he was no longer stick-thin, but broad-shouldered, his stomach flat, his muscles well-defined but not too bulky.

He was almost _too_ perfect, in fact, and when Draco turned his head just a fraction to peer out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed the telltale flicker that explained the Golden Boy's golden appearance.

He wanted to ask. The words waited just on the tip of his tongue, burning worse than an acid pop. Why, in Merlin's name, would Harry Potter - hero and all-around perfect wizard - need a glamour to make himself more appealing? All he had to do was snap his fingers to have fans of both sexes lining up in droves, eager to prove their worth to him. The whole idea of Potter needing a glamour was simply ludicrous, and Draco wanted nothing more than to point that out.

He could even feel a sneer pulling at the corners of his mouth, and bit down hard on the inside of his cheek to keep his expression neutral.

He'd thought that childish arrogance long since outgrown, but apparently a brief meeting with Harry Potter had been all that was needed to bring something of his old spirit back to the surface. And his childhood self wasn't a person he ever wanted his son to have to see.

The sooner they moved on from Potter's door, the better for all involved.

"All right, Scor," Draco said quietly when Scorpius finally paused in his prattling to take a deep breath. "Say thank you to Mr. Potter, and let's be on our way."

Scorpius's eyes widened dramatically. Draco winced; he hadn't meant to let the name slip from his lips.

"Mr. Potter?" Scorpius peered up at Potter, grey eyes searching for the tell-tale scar half hidden beneath his fringe. "Are you the _real_ Mr. Potter? The one who fought--" Scorpius took a deep, gulping breath. "The Dark Lord?" he whispered.

Draco expected a prideful affirmative - but to his great astonishment, Potter merely grimaced.

"Unfortunately, yes," Potter muttered. He tugged his fringe down further, completely hiding the faded scar.

Scorpius let out an ecstatic whoop; Draco didn't miss Potter's wince, or the way his eyes darted to the street, as though fearful of drawing any attention. Of course. He wouldn't want to be seen with a pair of Malfoys, after all.

"I really didn't do much," Potter was saying, a flush blooming in his cheeks. "There were so many others who--"

He broke off with a gasp, his hands fluttering over his stomach.

"All right there, Potter?" Draco drawled over the breathless litany of Scorpius's boundless chatter.

("Did you really escape Gringott's on a real live dragon? Do you still have it? I'm going to be a dragon tamer someday. But Daddy says even dragon tamers still need to eat their vegetables so they can be big and strong…but I'd much rather have chocolate, wouldn't you, Mr. Potter? My daddy says Swiss chocolate is much better than Honeydukes', but I like chocolate frogs best. Would you like one of my chocolate frogs? I've got loads…")

"I'm fine," Potter grunted at Draco. The flush had faded from his cheeks, and his mouth was drawn into a tight line.

Draco pursed his lips and looked away. Of course Potter wasn't fine. He was most likely furious now that Scorpius had unwittingly dredged up their past. So many people had died in the war, yet here Draco still stood: alive, un-incarcerated, and with a healthy young son. Potter wouldn't be the first person to point out the unfairness of it all. 

Except that Potter was clearly too polite to do so in front of Scorpius. Thank Merlin for small favors.

"Scorpius Hyperion," Draco said sharply. Scorpius immediately ceased his prattle to look up at him, eyes wide and just a bit fearful.

As always, whenever Draco was forced to subdue his son's youthful, innocent exuberance, he felt himself shrivel up with shame inside. But he pressed on, as he knew he must.

"We've taken up far too much of Mr. Potter's time," he said quietly. He gave Scorpius's shoulder a gentle squeeze to ease the sting. "We should move on to the next house now. It's getting quite late."

Scorpius's lips pursed. Thankfully, though, for once he didn't protest. He nodded solemnly and held up his hand for Draco to take.

"Thank you for the Muggle sweets, Mr. Potter," he said, at his most polite.

"Wait," said Potter.

Draco gave him a startled glance; Scorpius bounced excitedly on the balls of his feet.

"I'd," Potter said, and swallowed hard. He leaned against the door frame, clutching one-handed at it with an odd sort of desperation. His free hand still hovered in front of his very flat, very glamoured stomach. Draco narrowed his eyes as Potter's hand rolled and heaved over supposedly empty air.

"I'd love a chocolate frog," Potter managed to gasp out. His eyes were wide and pleading as they met Draco's. "Would you - would you like to - to come - inside?" he panted. Sweat beaded on his upper lip.

"Potter," Draco said, "are you sure you're quite--"

But Potter was already sliding down the doorframe, his eyes rolling back in his head.

Draco reacted immediately, instincts well-honed through five years of chasing his irrepressible son. He barely heard Scorpius's frightened cry over the thud of his own frantic heartbeat as he leapt forward to catch Potter under his arms. He hauled Potter upright and clutched the appallingly lightweight wizard tightly to his chest as he pushed forward, into the little cottage, with Scorpius crowding close against the backs of his thighs.

"Daddy, what--"

"Get the door, please, Scorpius," Draco said, as calmly as he could manage with the invisible bulge of Potter's stomach pressing against his own. The task was enough to jolt Scorpius out of his panic, as Draco had known it would; as soon as Scorpius turned back to close the door behind them, Draco shifted Potter and scooped him up, carrying him the short distance to a nearby sofa. He settled Potter onto the cushions and drew his wand.

"Finite incantatem," he snapped, pointing the wand at himself. He saw, out of the corner of his eye, the garish ginger transfigure into blond, and felt his skin prickle as the freckles disappeared. He turned the wand on Potter and repeated the incantation.

Potter's glamour fell away, and it was Draco's turn to gasp.

Potter was naught but skin and bone - too-large clothing draped over a skeletal frame. There was very little color in his hollowed cheeks, though his sunken eyes were bruised purple, and his skin had an unpleasant grayish tinge. His dark hair lay lank and listless against his skull. Potter had certainly never been a large man, but now his stomach seemed obscenely huge in contrast with his emaciated body.

Draco knelt to lay a hand against the firm, hard bump of Potter's pregnant belly, and was rewarded with a strong kick to his palm; at least the child seemed hale enough. Though clearly that was more a matter of luck than anything else. Draco could feel the child soaking up his own magic like a sponge, pulling fast and desperate enough to make him dizzy. No wonder Potter was so frail and thin, if he was trying to do complicated spells on top of the enormous drain the child had to be making on his magical reserves. Draco's estimation of Wood's character, never flattering to begin with, slipped down several more notches. Had the bastard really left Potter to support the child alone?

"Daddy?"

Draco looked into Scorpius's pinched little face and remembered, all too well, just how frightened he himself had once been - never knowing, from day to day, whether he would be strong enough to bring Scorpius to term. If he hadn't had his parents' support, and if they hadn't been willing to donate some of their own energy via the Sustineo spell…

"Is Mr. Potter going to die?" Scorpius asked, so softly that Draco had to strain to make out the words.

"He's not going to die." Draco wrapped his free arm around Scorpius and pulled him close. "He's just got a baby in his tummy. But the baby needs support, and Mr. Potter's too tired to give it right now, so I'm going to help them. But I need you to help me, love, while I help them. Can you do that?"

Scorpius nodded, at once bright-eyed and eager, his fear receding yet again in the hope of doing something useful. Draco wished he could push his own fear aside as easily. 

"How can I help?"

"Do you remember how to use the Floo?"

Scorpius drew himself up, every inch the haughty Malfoy heir. "Of course I do, Daddy," he said, with some asperity. "Don't be silly. You taught me, 'member?"

Draco couldn't help the small smile that curved his lips. "Quite right," he said. "Now, I can't leave Mr. Potter, so I need you to find a Floo - it's probably in the kitchen - and contact Grand-mère for me. You have to be fast, Scorpius - it's very important. Tell her what's happened, and Grand-mère will know precisely what to do after that. All right?"

Scorpius nodded eagerly and dashed off in search of a working Floo. Draco had complete faith in his son's abilities; he could only hope to hell that Potter actually had a Floo connection, and that he hadn't completely warded it against intruders.

"Malfoy?"

Potter's voice was a thin thread of sound through chapped lips.

"Potter," Draco said quietly. He glanced into Potter's eyes and was startled by the stark terror he saw there. His old childhood prejudices subsided back into the murky depths of Draco's soul as he took Potter's clammy hand in his and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Just lie still - I've sent for a Healer."

"No!" Potter's eyes widened, and he struggled to push himself upright. The baby moved restlessly under Draco's palm.

"What part of 'lie still' did you fail to comprehend, Potter?" Draco barked out. "Or are you actively seeking to damage your child?"

Potter stilled immediately, pulling his hand free of Draco's so that he could cup the mound of his belly with both hands. "Is the baby all right?"

"We won't know until the Healer gets here, will we?"

Potter looked so stricken that Draco forced himself to calm once more. "I'm giving her enough of my magic to keep her stable until Healer Glass arrives," he said. "I'm far more concerned about you, to be honest."

"I'm fine," Potter said with a dismissive shrug.

"Oh, yes, of course," Draco drawled. "Then it must have been my stunning good looks that had you fainting at my feet a few moments ago."

Potter's lips twitched, and he relaxed infinitesimally against the sofa cushions. "You did look quite nice as a ginger," he murmured. And then burst into tears.

He clamped his lips together, trying to lock in the sound of his sobs, and widened his eyes, blinking hard in a transparent attempt to stop the tears from flowing. But Draco recognized all the signs of a complete hormonal breakdown. Even if he'd never been on the other side of one before.

"Shh," said Draco, hovering helplessly. He reached out with a tentative hand to smooth Potter's hair back from his brow, and wiped the tears away as they crept into the hair at his temples. "It'll be all right. Healer Glass will be here soon. You can trust her - she helped me with Scorpius."

Potter blinked up at him through his tears. "You - you carried your little boy?"

Draco nodded. "She's very discreet, obviously," he added, and was unsurprised by the look of sheer relief that passed over Potter's features.

"I didn't want anyone else to know," Potter mumbled. "I suppose…if she kept you out of the press…"

With the storm of tears past, he was fading fast into sleep - his eyelids drooping, wet, clumped lashes falling to rest against pale cheeks.

"Anyone?" Draco asked, and told himself it was only an attempt to keep Potter awake. "Or just Wood?" Of whom he wasn't jealous, not even a little bit. Of course he wasn't. Wood wasn't here with Potter, after all.

Potter's head moved a fraction, the barest shake in the negative. "Already knows," Potter murmured. "Didn't want."

"Then he's a bloody fool."

Potter's lips curved. "Yes," he agreed, and followed that up with a fluttering snore.

There were urgent voices in the next room - one of them the Healer's familiar contralto - and Draco breathed a relieved sigh. He felt a swift rush of paternal pride; Scorpius had done his job very well. Just as Draco had known he could.

The baby gave another swift kick against Draco's palm.

"Don't worry, little one," Draco murmured. "We won't leave your daddy to do this alone."


End file.
